


A Fight

by perdue, TheJailer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, smutty hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdue/pseuds/perdue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJailer/pseuds/TheJailer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even people in love fight sometimes. The important thing is being able to forgive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Algebra Tutor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/275616) by [perdue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdue/pseuds/perdue). 



> omg this is an rp with me and jailer and yeh. i stitched it together and tried to give it some flow. it takes place in the same universe as [algebra tutor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/275616) but is still separate from the regular story so i'm just gonna post it separately
> 
> so yeah if you like brodad and also fighting followed by sugar sweet makeup sex this is the place 4 u

By the time Bro had awoken, his partner and bed-mate had already left for the work, the bed long since cold. Bro knew he had a little time to get ready for catching his second class, he decided not to--he was in a shit mood. Once more alone in the apartment, no work tonight maybe, but still the pull of the community classes that he hated--that his lover had talked him into enrolling in. He started his day with a long shower, but even that didn't seem to wash away his grumpiness, resulting in him lazing around the apartment before hunger pulled him to the kitchen.

Bro knew he wasn't a very good cook, but he could do simple things--he decided to try an omelet, those were easy right?

The result was a messy kitchen that Bro was at that point too pissed off to clean, a burned inedible omelet, and a pissy young man lying face down on the couch, paying no attention to the time.

-

After graduating, Dad very quickly was offered a few teaching jobs in the area, for which he was incredibly grateful. He knew Broderick had been anxious about the prospect of him leaving, and he never wanted to let the boy down. He'd promised to stay by him, and that was a promise he intended to keep.

That day he had stayed late to help some students with some difficult concepts and didn't arrive at the home he and Broderick shared (a smaller one-bedroom apartment after Roxy moved to New York to pursue her graduate's degree) until 3:30 to find Bro face-down on the couch.

"Hello, Broderick," Dad said passively, shedding his jacket and laptop case onto the couch at Bro's feet and heading into the kitchen. "Bad day?"

Bro just grumbled, flopping a little bit staying face-down on the couch, still irritated. He didn't usually get so upset—in fact, since he'd moved in with Egbert he was much less growly and silent all the time, being himself and all the dork that came with it, usually. But he had his bad days, his temper getting the better of him.

"Hmm," Dad mused, looking around the kitchen. It was a right pig-sty, and looked like it had been that way for several hours, judging from how egg yolks and other undistinguishable substances were dried and caked onto most surfaces.

Broderick had gotten better at cleaning up after himself over the past year, and Dad appreciated it. Ordinarily he was willing to overlook slip-ups and just clean up for him; Bro was a busy student, after all. But after a long day of teaching an unruly class when they were already struggling to learn the concepts, he wasn't particularly in the mood to clean up anyone else's messes.

"Hey, Broderick? Were you planning on leaving this mess much longer?"

“Indefinitely." He glared into the couch, shifting. "As long as I goddamn feel like it, really. Do you always have to breathe down my fucking neck about everything?" He rounded on him, sitting up and glaring. "'Go to class, Broderick,' 'Clean the house, Broderick,' 'Do your homework, Broderick.' I've had it up to HERE with this!" He punches the couch, his temper snapping. "I didn't even want to fucking do these stupid college classes!"

Dad started, eyes going wide. Broderick had his bad days, certainly, but he'd never snapped like this before, at least not to him. Under normal circumstances Dad might just go to their bedroom and wait for Bro to calm down the way he did on other bad days, wait for him to calm down and come join him in bed and cuddle to make sure everything between them was okay.

But under normal circumstances, Dad was a lot more calm himself, and two times as rational in his thinking.

"So what would you prefer, Broderick? That I had left you to flunk out of high school and work a dead-beat job like your foster father until you die? Pardon me for expecting some common courtesy in cleaning the apartment that I am paying for with next-to-no monetary repayment."

Bro was stunned, but his rage overpowered his shock at his lover snapping back. "Don't you dare fucking compare me to him. Don't you dare." He growled, his lip curling, getting up to face him. "I work my ass off as much as I can. I'd take more hours to help pay for the apartment if I could, but you won't fucking let me!"

"And I've told you before that you're better off focusing on your studies. You won't be able to find a high-paying career if you can't get a degree, Broderick. And maybe I shouldn't compare you to him, but what more can you expect when you're fighting me as if I were him?" Dad's cheeks flushed a little, his voice rising and choking a little on the last question, just as Broderick flinched away.

"Don't contradict yourself. Don't bitch about me not paying for it and then tell me I shouldn't work more." He looked away, gritting his teeth. "...And do _not_ compare me to him." He turned around, going to grab his coat and shoes and yank them on. He shot the other a seething look before the front door slammed behind him.

Dad's body instinctively moved forward a step, arm reaching out as the door slammed behind his lover, and felt his chest seize up with the realization of what had just happened.  
He wanted to curl into himself and sink into the earth and never come out again. How could he say something like that to Broderick? Broderick already had enough insecurities, particularly regarding his relationship with his foster father, to last him a lifetime. Even if he had been provoked, Dad couldn't forgive himself for stooping that low, and without even thinking about it.

Minutes passed and he noticed that he had sunk to the ground. He wondered vaguely if he should go after Broderick – the boy couldn't have gone too far – or if it would be better to let him go. Dad wouldn't be surprised if he didn't want to see him again after that, after trusting him and having one of his worst insecurities flung back in his face.

He covered his face with his arms and tried very hard to resist the urge to cry, an urge he hadn't had in years.

Bro, on the other hand, already had tears running down his face, despite his own self-berating to stop, stop crying you wuss. He kicked a garbage can over as he walked, pissed and hurt and fuck, he forgot his keys at home too, he had no money and nowhere to go. He kept walking, picking up the pace until he was full-on running, ignoring the looks of passersby as he went until he ran out of breath, finally slowing down a long ways from home. He flopped down onto a nearby bench, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to not sob. Who was he to compare him to his father? Was he...really like him that much?

-

After thirty minutes, Bro still hadn't returned. Dad had calmed down considerably and now was solely worried that Broderick was in trouble or hurt, and needed to find him and make him come home and make it up to him somehow.

He rushed out to his car, making rounds around the nearby blocks, the community college, the high school, the market, and Broderick was nowhere to be found.

Dad took out his cell phone and stared at it for a long time. It was no use to sit there and be too nervous to call, especially at a time like this.

He held down his textpad's "2," Broderick's speed-dial, and waited with baited breath, whether for the boy to pick up or to be ignored he knew not.

Bro glanced down when his phone began ringing, and still hunched against the park bench, he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it. He worried his lip with his teeth a little, still pissed off and hurt and very much in doubt about his own character. "...Fuck." He made the decision before the call could end, flipping the phone open and lifting it to his ear. "...What."

"Broderick?" Dad said urgently into the phone, his voice unable or unwilling to cover the worry he felt. "Where are you? I've been looking for you everywhere."

"I'm out." Bro contemplated just hanging up. "What's it matter to you?"

"I'm so sorry, Broderick," Dad blurted out into the receiver. The hand that wasn't holding his cell phone to his ear pinched the bridge of his nose, and bit back a resurgence of tears. "I really shouldn't have said what I did and it's not true at all and I really hope you can manage to find it in you to forgive me. And I want to tell you that in person, so please tell me where you are."

Bro fell silent for a long moment, his other hand clenching against the fabric of his jeans. "...22nd and Elm." And he shut the phone.

Dad might have sped a bit on his way to the intersection Broderick had told him – how that boy managed to walk so far in such a short amount of time was beyond him – and came to a screeching halt in front of the bench where the boy was sitting.

He hopped out of the car and rushed around to him, falling to his knees at the boy's feet, disregarding the mud on his slacks in favor of taking in Broderick's tear-stricken face. Dad was still in awe of his eyes even after all this time, and he considered it a blessing that he'd managed to make him comfortable enough to not have to wear his sunglasses all the time.

His hand reached out and brushed some of the tears away, eyebrows drawing into a pained expression. "Broderick, I can't even express how sorry I am." His other hand took the boy's hand that was clenching into his jeans. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Bro’s cheeks went pink despite himself. "I..." He looked down at Dad’s face, wanting to still be mad, really wanting to... But he looked so genuinely sorry and worried, and Bro couldn't find it in himself to still be angry. "Get up here." He pulled the other man forward, hugging him tightly.

Dad clung to the boy, hands clutching into the back of his polo and burrowing his face into his neck. "I love you, Broderick. I love you so much," he murmured against his skin. "I don't want to hurt you like that ever again."

He just holds onto him, sniffling a little. "It's okay. I'm...I'm sorry for yelling."

Dad pulled away a little and looked him in the eyes, and then looked around to realize a few passersby were watching them warily. He gulped and pushed down the urge to kiss Broderick, instead saying, "It's alright. Let's go home and talk about this, okay?"

"...Okay." He stood, letting his lover walk him back to the car. He got in, buckling in and staring at his lap, ashamed now that he was no longer angry. As soon as they were parked at home he leaned across the seat, pressing his lips needily to his lover's.

Dad felt a fluttering down his spine when their lips meet, hand reaching up to tangle into Bro's hair, pulling him closer and kissing him hard for several seconds before pulling away and looking into his half-lidded eyes. He leaned in again to kiss his cheek, and the corner of his mouth, and the tip of his nose and finally his forehead. "Let's go inside before this goes any further, alright?"

Bro whined and chased his lips for a moment, but sighed and stopped. "Alright." He stole one more quick kiss before getting out of the car, dragging his ass up to their apartment.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dad pulled Broderick toward him, but held him at a few inches' distance. "I want to kiss you very badly right now, Broderick. But I think we need to talk about what just happened first."

Bro sighed and thunked his forehead to the other's, frowning. "Fine."

Dad kissed him shortly and took his hand, leading him to their bedroom, where he sat Broderick down on the bed, taking off his shoes for him before pushing him down so that he was lying with his back on the mattress. Dad then lied down next to him and gestured for him to lie on his side so that they could face each other, and took his hand, holding it against his chest, Bro going along with the wordless commands and relaxing into the mattress.

"Do you feel my heartbeat?"

"Yes."

Dad smiled and leaned forward a bit and rested his forehead against Broderick's. "I am so very human," he whispered. He moved their hands so that they were pressing against Broderick's chest instead. "And so are you. We both make mistakes, right?"

Bro nodded, tearing up all over again, squeezing his hands and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm sorry."

"I know. I know you are. But can you tell me why you yelled at me?" He moved Broderick's hand to his chest, and himself stroked the boy's cheek softly.

"I was just upset. I overslept and didn't go to class. I was just...in a bad mood. I'm sorry for yelling..."

Dad knew that it had to be more than that. After the life he'd lived with his foster father, it was perhaps natural that he might crave some form of conflict. His thumb brushed his cheekbone. "It's okay. I forgive you." He kissed his cheek and his hand stroked further down to his neck.

"Now, about what I said..."

Bro swallowed and averted his gaze, trying to stop himself from pulling away from the touch in shame. "Am I...really like him?"

Dad felt a burning in his throat and his finger pulled him from the back of his neck closer, incapable of keeping himself from kissing him, deeply and a little urgently. A few tears dripped from his closed eyes and he pulled away, waiting until Broderick's eyes were on his before saying, voice wet with emotion, "You are _nothing_ like him."

Bro returned the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzled close to him. He kept his tears in check, his hand lifting to cup Egbert's cheek and wipe away those tears, then lean in to kiss them from his face. "Don't cry..."

"I'm sorry, Broderick. I'm so sorry," he murmured, his hand going into the boy's hair. "You aren't like him. You're so courageous, and hard-working, and no one has ever made me feel the way that you do."

"It's okay, shh..." He petted his hair softly, nuzzling close. "I love you. I know you didn't mean to."

Dad felt himself flush. It wasn't often that he heard those words from Broderick, and when he did, particularly at an emotional moment as this, his entire body reacted. He leaned   
forward and kissed him again, this time his hand moving down and stroking his sides, hips, and backside.

Bro made a small noise of surprise, his hands sliding to his waist as he kissed back, rolling over so that the other was on top of him. He arched his spine up a bit, hands sliding along his sides and back as he kissed him deeply. "Ah..."

Dad massaged his thigh with one hand and held his jaw in the other as his tongue slipped far back into the boy's mouth, moving softly and slowly into the wonderful suction of the boy's lips. He wanted to move calmly, to provide some sort of juxtaposition to the anger they'd felt earlier, and to make sure Broderick knew he was utterly and unconditionally loved.

Bro felt himself tear up again, sensing the tenderness in his hands and even his kiss. He couldn't help it when a few tears slid down his face, wetting the hair at his temples. He slid his hands down his back to cup his choice ass, giving it a squeeze and trying to distract himself from crying—crying during sex never ended well, he'd found, and he didn't want to freak out his lover.

He groaned lightly into Bro's mouth at being fondled and sucked on his lower lip as the hand that had been massaging his thigh pushed it so that his legs were spread a little more, settling in between them. But the hand that had been holding Bro's jaw moved up to cup his cheek; he felt the wetness next to his eyes, and promptly opened his own.  
Tears were streaming from the boy's eyes, and although Dad understood that this was somewhat of a tearful occasion in all, he still felt his heart jump at the sight, and pulled away from Bro's lips just to kiss his closed eyelids.

Bro groaned in return and wrapped a leg around his waist, pressing close and just losing himself in the feel of the other. It had been a while since they'd been able to do this, with Bro coming home from class and work exhausted and Egbert coming home exhausted from teaching. He slid his hands into his hair, trying to distract him from the fact that he was crying. "I'm okay," he murmured against his lips, cradling his head. "I need you right now."

Dad moaned not a little unabashedly at those words and his hips dipped down to grind against Broderick's. "You're perfect," he gasped into the boy's mouth, the feeling of contact between them shooting through all the nerves in his body and making him feel faint.

Bro groaned needily, giving his hair a gentle tug. "That would be you—mmn…" He quivered and grinded up in return against him, eyes hazy and half-lidded. "You're so g-good to me."

"I love you," Dad responded, as if that were the only explanation necessary: for to him, it was. His hands moved down and unbuckled Bro's jeans, and then his own (still muddy) slacks, freeing them both before grinding against him again, the lack of restraints making the sensation all the more poignant.

He slid his hands tightly through his hair again, leaning up to kiss him once more, inhaling sharply through his nose. He whined at the pleasurable contact, his hips canting up into the grinds of the other, moaning and bucking. "Get my shirt off, ah..."

Dad was tempted to make him say please as a joke, but figured after earlier that might not be a good idea. In any case, he was feeling a bit too needy to bother wasting time with jokes, and gave the boy some room to lift his torso off the bed so that Dad could grab the hem of his shirt and pull it off. As soon as it was tossed aside, he arched his back, leaning down to kiss his chest, tongue playing with the boy's nipples, and though he was loathe to admit it, those were a very sensitive spot for Bro, and he immediately pressed his chest up into the attention, moaning softly. "Ah..." He rubbed his fingers through the other's hair, his free hand moving to try and unbutton his shirt at the awkward angle.

Despite Broderick trying to undress him, Dad didn't move, lips latched onto his nipple and, and considered biting – really wanted to, rather – but held himself back, not wanting to cause any more pain or send any violent signals for the night. Rather, he sucked hard and used his fingers to play with the other one as he continued the rhythm between the boy's legs, which was quickly growing frantic with need.

"A-Ah...Please—" He quivered, tossing his head back as his hand tightened considerably in his hair. "Fuck!"

The tight grasp on his hair sent sparks of pleasure racing down Dad's spine, and he moaned the boy's name into his chest, finally releasing his nipple so that he could gasp for breath, other hand going down and pulling first Broderick's then his own dick out of their boxers, stroking them both in his hand a few times before he let his hips get back to the work, moving his fingers back up and placing them on the boy's lips, waiting for him to accept them.

Bro whined and tugged his hair, gasping and overwhelmed with heat and need and pleasure—he moaned and parted his lips, sucking one of Dad’s fingers into his mouth as he shuddered with pleasure.

The feeling of Broderick's warm tongue stroking his digits sent his brain into a frenzy, and he rutted hard against him a few last times before feeling the heat coiling in his abdomen, his muscles tensing so powerfully that he couldn't breathe until it all released, a high whine escaping his throat as he came on Broderick's stomach.  
Bro was a bit shocked by that, giving his fingers another suck, looking up at him with hazy eyes, moaning and his gaze begging for release. His lover rarely came before him, but Bro didn't mind—it was a compliment, really.

Breathing heavily and trying to ride out the final waves of pleasure, Dad withdrew his fingers from Broderick's mouth and reached down, pumping them both in his hand with abandon. "Come," he whispered against the boy's skin.

That was all the incentive he needed, gasping and arching up and coming hard, crying out the other's name. His hands scrabbled for purchase on his back, riding out the orgasm with a needy whine. "Ahh..."

Dad continued pumping until Broderick was utterly spent, and afterwards wiped his hand on his already dirty slacks before collapsing on top of him, not even caring that he still had his shirt on and Broderick was definitely getting come on it.

The hand that hadn't just been covered in ejaculate reached up and cupped Broderick's cheek. He gave him a slow kiss and murmured with an obvious hint of humor to his voice, "We should spend less time fighting and more time doing that."

He smiled a little, returning the kiss and pulling him close, nosing his cheek a touch. "I agree. I'm sorry..."

"It's in the past now. And as far as I'm concerned, it's time for bed. The kitchen can wait for tomorrow. Let's clean it together." He smiled at his affectionate nuzzling. "What do you say?"

"I agree." He pawed for a tissue from the bedside table, shifting away enough to wipe off his chest and toss it in the trash before pulling his lover's shirt off and tossing that aside as well. "Cuddle me."

"Gladly," Dad replied, curling up against the boy and grinning into his chest, the steady rise and fall of it slowly easing him into a comfortable sleep.

Broderick waited until he was asleep before murmuring "I love you," into his hair, kissing it before drifting off as well.


End file.
